


The Wonderful Misadventures of Eggplant-Man

by trashsenal



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: because that shade of red has some purple undertones to it, but matt doesn't know that so shhhhhh, hopefully it'll look better in motion, i actually have no idea where im going with this lo siento, maybe its just the lighting in the still idk, post season one canon, sometime before season two, still tho i think someone should tell him he looks like an eggplant, that costume is ugly af lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/trashsenal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Foggy, can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Yeah, Matt, shoot.”</p><p>“… Is my costume…? Ugly?”</p><p>He’s met with silence. Nerve-wracking, inhibiting silence. It’s a silence so intense that Matt can hear the floorboards of the offices downstairs creak. It's all the confirmation he needs.<br/>--<br/>Kink meme- In which a couple of teenage nerds make fun of Daredevil’s costume. Then, the entirety of New York City follows suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wonderful Misadventures of Eggplant-Man

“Foggy, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, Matt, shoot.”

“… Is my costume…? Ugly?”

He’s met with silence. Nerve-wracking, inhibiting silence. It’s a silence so intense that Matt can hear the floorboards of the officer downstairs creak.

It’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Um… Well, it prevents you from getting shot.” Foggy answers, his tone nonchalant. “That’s a plus, right?”

“Foggy,” He prompts again, shifting his weight impatiently. “C’mon, you didn’t answer the question. Is my costume ugly or is it not?”

Foggy hesitates again. In all honesty, he doesn’t even _need_ to answer; his heartbeat thuds in Matt’s ears fast and heavy, like he’s _trying_ to dodge the question. It’s as solid as silence. Matt exhales audibly. “Franklin.”

“I love it when you call me Franklin,” Foggy chides, still avoiding the topic. Papers rustle on his desk. Matt knows he’s trying to busy himself. “Very Irish Catholic of you.”

“Yeah, it’s your name.” Matt dismisses him. “Now are you going to leave your poor blind friend in the dark about his appearance?”  
  
Foggy snorts. “Matt, you _know_ you’re hot. You don’t need me to tell you again.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, though!” Matt exclaims, a disgusting whine creeping into his voice. He immediately clears his throat following the outburst, and sets his shoulders back in an effort to regain his cool composure. “I just want to know your opinion. Your honest opinion.”

Foggy sighs, and Matt allows himself a small smile at the victory. “Okay, fine. It’s fugly, buddy.”

The truth is as humbling as any well-aimed kick. Matt furrows his brows, and bites his lower lip. “You… Really think so?”

“Sorry, Matt,” Foggy apologizes sheepishly. He then perks up, chuckling. “Oh my God, you look like a kicked puppy. Like, if you had floppy dog ears, you’d look like one of the dogs on the ASPCA commercials. See, this is why I can’t tell you things—you get this look in your eyes, and you go from handsome wounded duck to abandoned puppy in three seconds flat. It’s heartbreaking, Matt. You’re freaking killing me.”

He’s full-out laughing now, making Matt grip his cane tightly. “It’s not funny, Foggy.”

“C’mon, Matty,” Foggy says light-heartedly. “You’re a total badass. The crime syndicate is fucking _terrified_ of you. Like, have you not heard all the testimonials from people claiming Daredevil saved their lives? _They_ don’t think your costume is ugly. You’re going too hard on yourself again, you freaking Catholic.”

Matt tries to take his words to hard, but it’s easy to let them go over his head after last night’s occurrences involving a couple of teenagers and a would-be mugger. He sighs again, contemplating whether or not he should tell Foggy because he’d probably never let him live it down.

* * *

 

_Last night_

It’s a normal night, but only Matt Murdock can consider a normal night to be full of violent crime.

It’s barely ten o’clock and there’d been three shootings, two break-ins, one instance of domestic violence, and approximately twenty three drug deals in Hell’s Kitchen. Matt perches carefully on the rooftop of an apartment complex, listening to the sounds of his city. Hell’s Kitchen, he thinks, is like a person; it’s got a heartbeat, a pulse, and its residents are the heart itself. An attack upon them is therefore an attack on the city’s soul, its most sacred feature.

Matt had taken it upon himself to protect the people of Hell’s Kitchen. Since he put Fisk away, the amount of crime had been decreasing, but it’s still New York and it’s still Hell’s Kitchen, so his job didn’t end there. As of recently, though, he’d been preoccupied with keeping the city as clean as possible by personally stopping any attempts at crime. His dedication had made him somewhat of an urban legend not just in the Kitchen, but in the rest of Manhattan, too; Foggy liked to keep him abreast by reading him ridiculous web articles written by bloggers and amateur journalists about the “savior of Hell’s Kitchen”. As gratifying as it was, however, to be recognized as an “urban Robin Hood” (?) by Buzzfeed, Internet fame couldn’t hold a candle up to the real-life gratitude expressed by those he dedicated himself to protecting.

“Dude… Your costume looks like shit.”

They were teenagers. A group of teenagers, dressed in low-quality spandex and leather, trying to imitate their idols with terrible homemade costumes. Matt doesn’t like to admit listening to people’s conversations, but he heard them loudly chattering about some sort of superhero and anime convention before an armed mugger approached them. He was on the street, positioned between the kids and the mugger, before the man could even draw his weapon. At the sight of the fearsome Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, the mugger dropped his weapon and fled, probably realizing it isn’t worth getting the snot beat out of him just to steal from a couple of probably broke teenagers. Matt, expecting some gesture of gratitude, turned towards the group once the threat was gone.

He was, as usual, setting his expectations too high.

“Excuse me?” He can’t help from being affronted by the kid’s comment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, however, a little voice is screaming at him to just leave it be and get on with his duties.

But he’s a lawyer. A stubborn lawyer, at that. He doesn’t just back down from an argument.

“Yeah,” The kid says flatly. “It looks like you got that shit off EBay or something. Like, dude, that’s not even the right shade of red. Everyone knows Daredevil’s costume is close to blood-orange.”

Well, Matt wouldn’t fucking know if it was the right shade of red, but it certainly _feels_ right. After all, he can tell Macy’s from Armani with just a simple brush of his fingers, so distinguishing shades by the scent of their dye isn’t difficult by any means. Plus, _blood-orange_ sounds absolutely disgusting for civvies, let alone a vigilante costume.

“Kevin?” Another kid, one that’s wearing some sort of cape, speaks up timidly. Matt assumes ‘Kevin’ is their leader. “Um, I could be wrong, but isn’t Daredevil’s costume supposed to be more crimson than—“

“ _Shut up,_ Billy!” Kevin snaps. Matt practically _feels_ the other kid, Billy, flinch. “ _Nooooo,_ Daredevil’s costume is _definitely_ blood-orange, dumbass. I would know. I run the fan page.”

Matt’s surprised. There’s a _fan page?_ He takes note, and reminds himself to ask Foggy to check it out later. He draws himself up to full height, and takes a step closer to Kevin. Not only is the kid wrong, but he’s also a fucking jerk reminiscent of the slimy college frat boys who thought themselves entitled to the entire planet.

“What are you trying to say, _Kevin?”_ He asks, and he hears the boy gulp. The little voice in the back of his mind continues screaming. It nags at him, saying he’s a mature, grown-ass man that shouldn’t be arguing with a teenager probably out past his curfew. Matt ignores it. “Are you trying to say I’m not Daredevil?”

Kevin stands his ground nonetheless. He pops his chewing gum, releasing the scent of mint into the air. “Well, I mean, everyone _also_ knows the _real_ DD has a logo of his initials on his chest. And you look like an archaic Eggplant-Man with that shitty cosplay. So…”

In that moment, Matt ponders whether or not he’d made the right call by saving them from getting assaulted, but then realizes that’s a horrible way of thinking. However, _Kevin_ should consider himself lucky that the man in the “shitty cosplay” hadn’t left him there to get mugged.

The voice in Matt’s head is practically hoarse from all its righteous screaming. He finally gives in to his good judgment, and takes off without another word for Kevin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think!!!!!!!!


End file.
